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by LokianaWinchester



Series: Closure [2]
Category: Absolution - Ramona Meisel
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 12:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: This is the sequel/final chapter with a happy ending for my ficClosure. You should read that before going for this one.





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**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Since [Closure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514293) still ended on a cliffhanger despite its (maybe misleading) title, here is the happy ending, that Yeshua and Judah deserve.
> 
> Please excuse any mistakes.

Once Judah was out the door, he kept running and did not turn back. His hands were burning with echoes of Yeshua’s touch; Judah knew the sensation of Yeshua’s skin against his own like none other, but he had forgotten, he felt differently now than he had ever before. It was more intense than before, he was shaken up emotionally from just holding Yeshua’s hands, but it was also not intense in the same way as it had been before.

Before.

Before Yeshua had died – almost died.

Judah shivered at the thought, remembering the fateful day in snippets, his nose was clogged with the smell of rotting flesh, flashes of a red-soaked body bag, sticky strands of hair framing a too pale face, blood everywhere. The images crossed before his eyes, blood on Yeshua and blood on Judah. He felt the substance on his fingers again, clinging to him, with no way to get it off, no water clean enough to wash the thick liquid off his fingers. Judah took a deep breath, that brought him back into the present. His legs were running by themselves, breaths coming heavily.

No, he thought, the intensity before had been different. It had been an intensity that stemmed from the limited time Yeshua knew they had and from the resulting hurry, the irrational need to be close to one another to the point of nearly merging together. Now it was an intensity of emotion, the factor of time was gone, but the feelings were not, Judah realised with a start. He might not do anything specifically for Yeshua anymore, he might not live for him or fight for him anymore, but without the shadow of a doubt Judah still loved him.

He could still taste Yeshua on his lips when he reached the motel. He knew the taste so well, so intimately, but only a day ago he would never have thought to go back, to feel Yeshua’s touch again, let alone kiss him. He resented having to come back to the motel, it did not sit right with him, he associated the anxieties of the past days with the environment, when he just needed some sleep.

Eventually, after what felt like hours and hours of replaying the previous events, Judah fell into a deep, dreamless sleep from which he woke up, feeling melancholic, the feeling of Yeshua sitting in every last bone. When the memories of the night before came back to him, Judah swallowed; he would need some time to process them; he could not stay. Not here.

Not yet.

* * *

 

The sky was still painted in beautiful colours as the sun rose behind a row of buildings, when a sharp knock shook Judah out of his dozing state. Hastily, he got up and dragged a hand through his hair, probably making him look even less presentable, before he turned the key and opened the door. Mariam came inside before he could even utter a word in greeting.

When she had found Judah the day before, she had comforted him, helped him up and bought him food. He had tried to argue himself out of it, but she had insisted.

Then she had started talking about Yeshua and Judah had nearly lost his composure again. Only hearing that name was enough to shake him, but being told that Yeshua knew he was here, that he was waiting for Judah to be found, that he was barely eating, because he was being plagued by panic all day, it had done unspeakable things to Judah’s already weakened emotional state. It had taken three promises on his life that he would go and see him, to get Mariam to leave him to his own panic attack.

Judah had aimlessly moved through the city for hours until his feet were aching, and his mind was blank. Only when the sun began to set, he remembered his promises, and even though he had been tempted to just go to sleep, uncaring of any consequences, he really did not fancy finding out what would happen if he did not keep his promises to Mariam. She did not seem like the kind of person to take it lightly.

So he had gone where she had told him to go.

* * *

 

Now Mariam was back, and her expression made Judah question whether not going to visit Yeshua might have been the lesser of two evils.

“What?” he asked, not wanting to give her the opportunity to speak up first, taking even this slight position of power from him, when he knew, she was going to unleash her wrath at him anyway.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Judah just looked at her; he knew there was more.

“I love him, Judah. I love him so much.” Mariam paused again, but it was not in expectation of Judah’s reaction. Her pause was one of hesitance. Judah had been prepared for much, but not for this.

When she started speaking again, Mariam looked up, her gaze drilling into Judah; it was as intense as the emotions she laid bare before him.

“But I don’t hope for anything. I know it’s all pointless, there is no hoping for his love.” The way she emphasised the last word made Judah uncomfortable. What was she implying? He reached a hand into his pocket to find it empty. He missed the bullet.

“You know why?” Without missing a beat she answered her own question. “Because there is nobody for him, but you.” Oh.

“I know there’s no way he’d ever let me love him like I feel I should, because he only wants you and then you leave, over and over and over again.” Her voice was weak now, devoid of all its edge, its accusation.

“I need time.” It was all he could say because it was the truth.

“How much time do you need? It’s been half a year! He’s never really said something, but he needs you, I know it, because when he still stayed with me, he used to talk in his sleep, he begged –” Her voice broke. She took a deep, shaky breath.

“– he begged for you to come back. He doesn’t like showing that side of him, the weak one, the one that has needs and can’t always just give. But it’s there, Judah, and it needs you.”

“I need more time, Mariam, this whole thing hasn’t only affected you and Yeshua.” Judah was getting angry too now. Mariam thought she knew Yeshua better than Judah did and maybe she knew more about him as he was now, lonely and cut off from the world, but Judah _knew_ him. Judah knew the needy side more intimately than Mariam could ever understand.

“Didn’t you ever stop to think how much I blamed myself, how much I wanted Peter to continue beating my face in, or for that rope around my neck to set an end to all of this? You didn’t. I’m not saying you didn’t have it bad, or he didn’t. Yeshua went through more pain than I ever could imagine, but that just makes me want to run even more, because I caused it.”

Judah furiously wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I couldn’t leave him forever. I’ll be back, but I need time and you can’t guilt trip me into staying until I’m ready.”

Judah’s throat was aching with unshed tears. The pain from the previous night, the pain of leaving Yeshua like that was still nestled deeply within his bones, reminding him with every movement of what he had done. When Judah looked at her, he saw tears in Mariam’s eyes as well.

After a long pause, she spoke up.

“Do you love him?” The urgent undertone in her voice told him that she was being serious, she really did not know.

“Yes.” Judah took a deep breath. Exhaled. Even breathing was uncomfortable. “More than I can say.”

Mariam nodded. A single tear escaped her eye, she wiped it away and smiled. Judah saw the sadness, but also acceptance.

“Okay,” she said.

When she was gone again, Judah sat down on the bed, let himself fall backwards and stared at the ceiling. When he did not feel like crying anymore, he packed his bag and left. Instead of sadness or despair, he mostly felt numb now.

The station was just as welcoming as the motel had been a day ago, moving again was the right thing to do.

* * *

 

The next few days were hard on him. Judah was constantly cold, he could barely eat because the unprovoked, random bouts of anxiety that were plaguing him, seemed to close up his throat. He slept badly and being awake became tiring to the point that he nearly fell asleep in the queue at a store.

After a week, it got better, and he started thinking about the future.

Never before had he thought about a future with Yeshua, it had always seemed impossible; their lifestyle had been too risky. In terms of planning for anything but the revolution, Judah had never looked farther than a week. But now it was all different, because the revolution was over and Yeshua still wanted him. After everything they had been through, Yeshua still wanted him.

There was no question that Judah wanted him as well. In every possible way.

After a month, the idea of a shared future was deeply engraved in Judah’s mind and the temptation of going back was becoming overwhelmingly strong.

So he did. For the first time in months, public transportation was irritating him; everything went so slowly, there seemed to be no direct connections anywhere and the longer his journey took, the more Judah felt trapped by his own anxiety eating at him from the inside and outside alike. When he stepped off the last train, his trip had taken nearly a day; it was late afternoon and the air was chilly, but Judah did not feel it anymore. His nerves had him sweating as he made his way out of the station through familiar streets, hoodie once again pulled deep over his face to avoid being recognised.

* * *

 

Judah’s pace slowed when he neared the run-down house outside the city’s busy zones. His heart was beating rapidly, as if he had been running, when really his steps had been even, calm, like a mantra drumming rhythmically into the asphalt beneath his feet, soothing his mind to some degree at least. Judah felt lightheaded, he clenched his hands into fists at his sides.

‘Keep it together,’ he warned himself.

But that was easier said than done. His hands were sweaty by the time he reached the door. He wiped them on his jeans, then raised one to knock, feeling oddly thrown back to the last time he had been here.

Only his feelings of dread regarding Yeshua’s reaction had shifted and were even worse before. The risk was bigger this time. What if he had taken too long? What if Yeshua had decided to move on after all?

Fear ran through Judah, his hand was shaking, but now he was here; what use was there in putting it off any longer?

Judah knocked. He heard steps from the other side of the door, a key turning in the lock, then the door opened.

Judah was sure his appearance was less than appealing; he had not showered in two days, his hair was greasy from his nervous sweating, his clothes were wrinkled, and his shoes had holes in them; he was tired, anxious and exhausted. And yet Yeshua smiled at him brightly, his familiar dangerously sharp smile, and ushered him inside.

“Judah,” he said. His voice was even and calm, the mere sound of his name on Yeshua’s tongue was enough to soothe Judah more than he was willing to admit.

He set his backpack down next to the door, shrugged off his jacket and awkwardly clutched it to his chest. He had had so much time to prepare for this moment, but now that Yeshua was really standing in front of him, he had lost his capability to form thoughts, let alone words.

“Are you okay?” Yeshua asked. Judah nodded.

There was a pause. Neither of them knew how to continue; the smile was still sitting on Yeshua’s face, but Judah noticed that it did not quite reach his eyes. The eyes that were trained on Judah as if Yeshua was trying to look through him, to see his thoughts, his motives.

“I’m sorry.”

That was all he could say. It was ironic that the last words he had spoken here should be the first ones to leave his lips upon returning.

“For what?” Yeshua’s voice was softer now, his grey eyes met Judah’s and at once, Judah found his words again.

“I’m sorry I left again, I’m sorry if I made you worry and if you were sad because of me. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t stay. Not yet. I’m sorry I didn’t even say where I was going and that I didn’t text you or anything, I’m sorry –”

“Can you now?” Yeshua interrupted him, stepping closer.

“What?”

“You said you couldn’t stay yet, can you now?”

In his mind, Judah had imagined this conversation before. In none of these imagined ones, Yeshua had asked him this; it had always ended with Judah begging for forgiveness. But Yeshua was never what Judah expected.

“Yeah.” Judah’s voice was shaking, weak, the word barely more than a whisper, but Yeshua took the final step to reach him. The look in his eyes changed from polite neutrality to adoration so fast, Judah only noticed the change when Yeshua was coming to a halt only inches from him.

Yeshua took the jacket from his hands, threw it over a chair behind him carelessly. His touch still came suddenly and just like that it took over all of Judah’s senses, his brain completely shut down with the relief that ran through him at once. He would never have thought that feeling Yeshua’s fingertips ghost along the tender skin on the inside of his forearms could make him fall apart like this, yet here he stood, knees nearly giving out underneath him. Only sheer determination that pierced through the haze of dizzying relief kept him standing.

Yeshua slowly traced his fingertips down towards Judah’s palms, the touch so hesitant and light that he might as well imagine it. But it was real. He laced their fingers together and squeezed Judah’s hand lightly. At once the latter realised how touch starved he really was. For months on end he had been by himself, around nobody he trusted enough to allow them to touch him, and now that he was suddenly in contact with somebody, with Yeshua of all people, Judah wanted to soak up as much touch as he could get. He stepped closer, trapping their hands between them. Their chests were almost touching and Yeshua’s face was so, so close.

“If you’ll have me.” The words had ghosted around his mind, but he needed to know, he needed to hear Yeshua say it.

The beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and looked over Judah’s shoulder for a moment, before he answered.

“Of course.”

The rest of the anxiety and tension drained from Judah, evaporated into nothing. In its place stepped happiness.

Yeshua leaned in to kiss him. Their lips met, and it was unlike any kiss they had ever shared. It was a chaste kiss, so unbelievably soft and affectionate. In that moment, Judah’s dazed mind realised that he was not the only one who had changed while they had been apart. Yeshua was also not the same as he had been. The urgency was gone from his life, his mission was fulfilled, even though the divinity remained. Judah felt it coursing through him; he felt it, burning in his veins, marking him as Yeshua’s. A familiar feeling. It was cleansing, burning their past to the ground while making room for a future and providing a nourishing ground for it to grow.

They had burned so much, Judah realised, that now from their very own ashes they would be reborn. Their future shone much brighter than the past, a future into which they would step as one, soaring like a phoenix from their doom.

They broke apart and Yeshua was glowing. The last rays of the evening sun framed his face, materialising the halo he always had in Judah’s mind. There were few things as fulfilling to Judah as this moment of pure happiness. It was not the most familiar feeling, but something in Yeshua’s eyes indicated that this was about to change.

“Are you sure about this?” Yeshua asked. “Because if you’re not, leave now or I’m never letting you go.” He was speaking in a light, joking tone, but he looked at Judah with immense intensity, features more serious than ever. He knew it was more than a joke. He felt it as clearly as he did the divinity settling within his bones.

Judah also saw that he had been wrong. Yeshua had not changed, not really. This was the same man he had followed for years, the one person he knew better than anybody, the one person he loved above all else. He felt ashamed on some level, that he had not realised it earlier, because the revolutionary was still very much inside Yeshua, less active maybe, but still the same. This was him speaking. This was the monster Yeshua had told him about when they had lain awake together during black nights, unable to stop touching, lost in sensation, lost within each other. The monster was as much a part of Judah as it was of Yeshua. No, Yeshua had not changed; he had grown, he had evolved.

These sides of Yeshua he newly discovered, the one that was insecure about the future and the one that dealt out happiness in the form of languid kisses, they had developed when the others had shrunk with the end of the revolution.

“I’m sure. I don’t think I could leave again. I’m ready to stay.”

The responding grin that lit up the already glowing face before him, was all it took for Judah to finally pull his hands from Yeshua’s grip. Slowly, he pushed a loose strand of hair out of his face, before he started to trace Yeshua’s jawline until his fingertips rested beneath his chin. Grey eyes were watching Judah; a sudden rush of affection made him dizzy, then he smiled for the first time in too long. Before he even realised Yeshua had moved, their lips were slotted together again, his free hand had rapidly moved, almost automatically and was now cupping the back of Yeshua’s head to keep him close, pressing their foreheads together even when their lips parted.

Judah felt hot breaths on his face; with his eyes still closed, he spoke up.

“There’s no hurry. I told you I’m not leaving.”

Yeshua huffed out a laugh.

“We'll have more time if we hurry.”

Judah had to laugh as well and pressed his face into the base of Yeshua’s neck. He inhaled deeply. No, Yeshua was really still the same.

A sigh escaped Judah when Yeshua’s fingers combed through his hair. If staying felt like this, he could not have chosen better.

Like with every change Judah had gone through in the last months, his new situation took some getting used to, but it was comfortable, because he was not alone. And more importantly, he was with Yeshua, the man he loved, the man he would stay with indefinitely, the man he wanted to get used to and despised getting used to at the same time, because that would mean he could no longer appreciate him in the same way. After some time Judah realised he would never get used to Yeshua, the man had too many facets, he was always growing, developing, but Yeshua never changed. His brilliant mind did not change, his divinity always burned brightly and his love for Judah was the constant to which Judah himself adjusted his life.

Peter’s position as the first President of a new nation earned him enough money to provide not only for himself, but also for Yeshua and Judah. However, no matter how often the latter tried to offer his help with anything, Peter insisted, that he already did enough just by making Yeshua happy.

The others agreed. Only when he met all of them again, Judah realised how much he had missed them. It was good to have his friends again. Even Mariam was pleased to see him. She obviously still cared for Yeshua deeply, but just like Peter, she was glad that he had Judah again after waiting and hoping for so long. The smile she flashed Judah across the room, when she met his eyes, then looked down at his fingers, intertwined with Yeshua’s, was the exact reassurance he needed.

But still, nothing was better than the utter euphoria of having Yeshua near him. After all the doubt and all the pain, there was finally peace. Happiness indeed took a dominant role in Judah’s emotional life. Where his future had seemed so hopeless once, every quiet confession of love countered his fears, every kiss soothed his racing mind.

Judah was finally home.

* * *

 

 When Judah fell in love with the Messiah, he prepared to bleed. He bled so much it nearly killed him, but now the Messiah was dead and what remained was Yeshua loving Judah. The bleeding stopped, and wounds started to heal, mended by Yeshua’s still wondrous hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it. Kudos and especially comments are very welcome as always.


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